Yes, you can still order a burger and a beer, but the burger is now a ten-ounce patty of ground chuck from locally raised beef. At a medium-rare temperature, the flavor is exceptional, purely beefy with a smack of iron. It must join the ranks of St. Louis' best burgers. Lewis doesn't assemble a standout BLT so much as craft it — from house-cured bacon and wedges of crisp, tart fried green tomatoes with mixed greens and a Cajun-spiced mayo.

Quincy Street's entrées (or "suppers," as the menu dubs them) include catfish dredged in cornmeal and then deep-fried. (This is also available as the main event in a po' boy sandwich.) The fish is remarkably moist under its jacket of cornmeal, and it has none of the unpleasant oiliness for which the species is notorious. A buttermilk soak deepens the flavor of a boneless chicken breast dredged in flour and pan-fried. A thick coat of white gravy flecked with black pepper completed the dish.

Suppers come with your choice of two sides. With the fried chicken I opted for the thin, crisp housemade potato chips and the vegetable of the day. The latter brought a miniature mason jar with roasted carrots, beets and watermelon radish. The vegetable preparation wasn't complicated, but it was seasonally appropriate and perfectly executed, roasty-sweet with an undertone of earth. It was small but vital proof that with a talented chef committed to his craft, a neighborhood bar-and-grill can aspire to be much more.